


A Little Bit Of Light

by ad_dictionary



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr-centric, Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_dictionary/pseuds/ad_dictionary
Summary: That nothing here is promised, not one day. And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love cannot be killed or swept aside. Now fill the world with music, love and pride.-Lin Manuel Miranda; Jun 12, 2016tw: rape/non-con;
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, but its not about that - Relationship, its about aaron and everyone who has ever expeirenced anything like this
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	A Little Bit Of Light

**Author's Note:**

> I went back and forth on whether to post this or not. I was scared I would accidentally say something insensitive or wrong. I reached out to a friend and asked for their opinion, and they encouraged me to post it. 
> 
> And so I did. This story and this idea has been pounding in my head and my heart and I think it's finally time I share it. It isn't long, or even detailed, but I think it's important. 
> 
> One of the main reasons I wrote this was to tell people who read my stories something. 
> 
> You are the only one who can heal yourself. People can support you and push you to where you need to go, but you are the only one who can climb that mountain and cross that finish line. I beleive in you, and all you can do.
> 
> Now go out their and live.

He couldn’t breathe. Aaron Burr could not breathe. His life was over. Say goodbye to his boyfriends. Send a farewell text to Maria and James. It was over now. This was how he would die. In his flat, on his bed, suffocating on the scars he still had. On the life he once lived.

The life he was still living.

He gripped tightly onto the sheets, grasping at the happy memories that happened on this bed. This was where they had spent lazy mornings just laying there and talking and kissing and hugging. This was where they refused to get up after a long night of drinking, This was where they had shared their love, and made some too.

Aaron told them to stop the first time. He said he didn’t think he was ready. They said they were willing to wait. After a few weeks, they would try again. Aaron would stop just as they were starting. The cycle repeated over and over. They were so patient. Finally, Aaron said he was ready. 

That was a lie.

He pretended to like it. He moaned and laughed and let them do what they wanted. They were so gentle. It still hurt in a thousand different ways. He bit his lip when he wanted to tell them to stop. He was supposed to like this. He was supposed to pretend that every time they kissed his collarbone or let their fingers over him he didn’t want to scream. Didn’t want to beg for them to stop. For them to wait a little longer.

His tears were silent and cold that night.

He thought he was fine. He thought his demons were locked down somewhere deep inside where no one but his deepest consciousness could reach them. He  **was** fine, until they left. They all had work, and so did Aaron. 

_It’s_ _over_. He told himself. He repeated it over and over again in his mind.

_ It’s over. _

_ It’s over. _

But it wasn’t. It was time for round two, and this time he didn’t think he could pretend.

He was here. Aaron felt fingers graze his side, breathing on his neck. Aaron refused to move. He would just throw him back down. He hadn’t moved in hours. Hanging off the foot of the bed, hands white from holding onto the sheets. The sheets were the same color as Herc’s beanie. A grey that was as close as you could get yet still not be considered dark.

He was late for work now. 

Why now? Why not as they made him relive everything he thought he was able to forget? Why not right after?

No, it was happening because he refused to open himself up to anyone. So he resolved to hoarding away his pain until he was finally alone. But now it was a different kind of pain. 

Anticipation.

Because he was here. He had to be. Aaron heard him, felt him. Aaron knew what was coming, and he couldn’t let it happen. So he did the only he knew how to do.

He ran.

He threw himself off the bed and towards the door. He felt around for the knob.

Something smooth.

He pulled. Light poured in. Aaron stumbled and fell and scrambled away. He didn’t know where he was going. His vision clogged and blurred, and he collapsed.

His cheek landed on something cold. The pain brought him back for a minute. 

He needed help. He grasped for his phone. He found it in his left pocket.

Two missed calls

_ Alexander _

_ Washington _

Fuck. How late was he? He haphazardly pushed on Alexander’s name, calling him back.

_ “Aaron? Where have you been? Washington asked me where you were.” _

“ Alexander…”

_ “Is this about the other night? If we went to fast you can tell us,” _

“No it’s just,” Aaron was suffocating again. He tried breathing in and out. It didn’t work.

“Alexander, _he’s_ _here_ ,”

_ “What? Who’s there? Are you alright?” _

He was getting closer now, Aaron could feel it. Feel  **him** .

“I can’t I-” The room began to spin. He swore he saw him. He was right there. 

_ “Aaron? Aaron!” _

+++

People always say that rock bottom is far deeper and far scarier than you think. They aren’t wrong. But what people don’t say is is how high you can go. How you can go from dead on the floor to crawling forward and then before you know it you’re walking and soon you’re running. Running away. 

And then you drop. 

Like a line chart. Just another statistic on the nation’s growing list. And people coax you upward and carry you and teach you to walk. They can beg and plead and you can let them because it’s the only thing you know how to do. And you dream of flying. You dream of leaving it all behind. But, you slowly come to know that people can hug and kiss you and support you, but you are the only one who can move yourself. You learn to walk on the crutches you whittled. And, as time goes on, you come to terms. And there are days when you feel so alive and free that the darkness can’t touch you anymore.

And holding onto those days is all you need to do.

+++

Aaron wakes up in someone’s arms. He wants to run, to scream. But then he breathes, and realizes where he is. His four boyfriends are staring at him intently. Hercules starts.

_ “You don’t have to tell us but-” _

“I can tell you.” He cuts him off.

And so he told them. He told them about his parents. He told them about the neatly trimmed social worker on their doorstep. He told them about the cold glares and faked smiles. He told them about the way the hills flattened into cold gray buildings in the car. He told them how he had more dead relatives then he could count on his fingers. He told them about the 10 by 8 room at his uncle’s house he was supposed to call his own. He told them about bad nights and the good nights. He told them how the second time and the third and the fourth time is just as bad as the first time. Because the first time you didn’t know what he was going to do and the second time you knew what he was going to do and so much more. 

They hug him and kiss him and say it will all be okay, and he hugs back.

They say he needs to come clean to everyone.

Telling the others is harder, but he manages. His boyfriends are right there by his side, but he doesn’t hold onto them the way he did.    
  


Maria cries with him and promises things she knows she can’t do but will anyway. James just hugs him without saying a word.

+++

It’s early November, snow still refuses to fall, and the leaves are clinging onto the branches by the stem. 

Aaron’s in the bathroom, taking his meds. He looks down at the bottle then back up at the mirror. He gently touches his cheek, then smiles. He laughs and cries and lets himself feel each and every inch of his own face. He tells himself how proud he is. How each and every inch of his skin is his own. He lets the tears flow. Doesn’t make a move to stop them. After a while his boyfriends come in, worried, and hug him and hold him tight.

Aaron doesn’t hug back, he just keeps smiling, touching his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> National Sexual Assualt Hotline: 1-800-656-4673
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> There also online chats available for those who aren't comfortable with a phone call.
> 
> Remember: You matter.


End file.
